Visible
by tracer2032
Summary: Something is pulled, shut off and his fragile world careens into a dull edged black as his chest constricts, closing off air. Spoilers for Season 2.


_Okay so this was an idea I had after hours spent watching the promos and studying those stills! haha, and seeing as its a weird idea meets Tracer on cold meds, hopefully this translates well enough. I thought it was an interesting concept...but who knows?_

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Visible

It's screeching, blaring static, thin colored lines jumping sparingly and plummeting violently alerting every blur of white into the room to the waning existence residing within. Horrified green takes in the scene with terrified awe as material is cut and stripped away exposing slashes and bruises he's yet to study, to validate, but now are laid bare for painful captivation.

A trembling voice breaks through his unwavering haze, a single, repeated word leaving the quivering lips. The sound's familiar, known in some distant way, but the words are incoherent slurs even as the onlooker tears his gaze from Death's ringing call and looks upon the young face marked with rampant fear and crushing love twisted in agony.

He notices the instant the dark-haired man is shut out, swept out of reach, even though he doesn't see it. The air shifts and what little his ears have been tortured to hear vanishes completely into the erratic pulse of shallow breaths and fading beats.

Something is pulled, shut off and his fragile world careens into a dull edged black as his chest constricts, closing off air. He stumbles back, colliding with firm plaster and gasps harshly with effort. Darkness dances into the entire view, and he's on his knees before it exits with a burst of sharp white as a figure takes the place of the life-giving machine he's relied on.

Gratifying heaves of air sweep into his lungs and the black forges into gray. He's leaden, heavy in a way he hasn't known before and all effort extends from him to simply loll his head back at the form sprawled before the sea of ashen white for their scrutiny.

His fading attention follows the stream of harsh curses and the source of their forthcoming. Jade lingers on the steady, straight line adorning the blackened monitor. It's sudden formation jolting a stronger wave of urgency into the small room.

A hand slaps down something sticky, tackily orange to his chest and he's scratching idly because no other motion seems to fit. Only for the weighted limb to fall sharply, locked straight fingers clinging, bracing, and kneading the wall bracing arching flesh as electrifying shock snaps fires into him. He barely manages a shaky puff of air before the searing agony returns, fiercer this time, more intense.

And he's screaming, begging for it to just stop as the flame ignites for a third time but it's to deaf ears. No one turns, acknowledges his tortured presence curled in on itself to escape the pain ravaging it. He yells again, angrily, spiting those who've subjected him to this helpless mass and the desire for the aching anguish to cease encompasses every fiber of his strained muscles and wonders if this is how Death truly greets you.

The instantaneous relief he hopes for doesn't come with the renewed shrill beeping that satisfies bringing the end to the jarring shocks. Instead, the throbbing pulse of pain accompanies every acquired mechanical breath, and he watches with passive interest as the stark white coats arrange wire after wire before once again leaving him alone.

Shaky hands press firmly against the cold tile as the young man rises from his cornered watch post. He approaches the man whose agony was his own moments before, the peaceful serenity displayed unfit for all that was endured.

Fingers caked with drying blood trace the pale skin of the freckle dusted face with feared awe, tracing from chin to short, sandy hair before stopping their motion altogether. Sharp, alert green meets closed, bruised lids and he wonders why it mattered because next time, he doesn't think he can last.

It's his face, his sunken eyes, and hollowed cheeks. His lips parted by plastic, his body dying…and for the first time since the accident, Dean feels every second of it.

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_So really and honestly here, let me know if this sucked or was worth the read. All thoughts are appreciated, I'm a lover of all things concrit, so there ya go..._


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